The Dust Will Never Settle (37 page)

Satisfied with her plan, Ruby withdrew both weapons from her belt and calmed herself. Her eyes were still focused on the monitor, watching for any change in the deployment of the men she meant to ambush.

Chance’s party had reached the stairwell between the two floors.

Perfect
. Ruby took a deep breath, willing her metabolism to slow down, but her adrenaline had peaked. By now her body was craving to catapult forward.

She knew the next few minutes would be her last. But it was okay.

Mom’s waiting. She – they – are banking on me. I will not let them down.

Drawing a long breath, she stilled her nerves once again and started to turn.

That was when the third man behind Chance looked up, an inadvertent glance, not aware that the camera overhead could capture him so clearly.

He was dressed like Sir Geoffrey Tang and made up like him, right down to the slightly greying, long sideburns and pointed goatee. But Ruby knew he was not Sir Tang. She had travelled with Tang for a week and knew the British MP well enough to know that this man was an imposter.

Ruby held back. One by one, she began to closely examine all thirteen men behind Chance. The subterfuge was obvious. Despite their clever make-up, she could tell they were not the delegates; they were all imposters, decoys. As she intensified her scrutiny, she noticed that they were carrying concealed weapons.

Ruby’s mind changed gears.

Where are the real delegates?

The answer arrived with a snap.

In one of the other conference rooms on the eighth floor.

It was logical.

Her mind began generating a new plan.

If that guy had not looked up I would have walked right into their trap.

A new feeling of respect for Ravinder swept through her. He was one hell of an adversary.

Like father, like daughter? But he did not want me… Stop! Think!

The minute they launched the decoys, hadn’t they also given her an open playing field?

Every tactic has a weakness: the more daring it is, the more crucial the weakness. That was the nature of the beast.

Ruby could not see any security personnel on the eighth floor. She knew they would be there, but not too many. A lot of guards on a supposedly abandoned floor would have been a dead giveaway.

Adapt!

Ruby re-evaluated.
If the decoys had been deployed, it meant that they knew she had penetrated the secure zone.

By now the decoys had crossed the seventh floor and were continuing down. Ruby watched Chance peel away at the landing and head for the control room. She waited till he pushed open the door and entered. The door began to swing shut behind him. The corridor was clear.

Now!

Strike!

Ruby raced out, headed for the stairwell on the far side, away from the control room. She was moving silently, as fast as her feet could carry her, straight for the eighth floor.

Going for the kill.

The control room door was swinging shut behind Chance when Ravinder saw Ruby on the monitor, charging out of his room. Pistols in both hands, she was sprinting down the corridor. He knew her destination. That she was moving
away
from the decoys showed that she had seen through their plan and spurned the bait.

He ran out of the control room, shouting at Chance to follow him. As they ran, he explained. A few words were enough. The two put on a burst of speed, knowing that the delegates were in mortal danger.

They were passing the elevator when the door pinged open and a harried Mohite stepped out. He was about to say something, but Ravinder pulled him out of the way and dove into the elevator with Chance behind him. Chance stabbed at the eighth floor button, frantically willing the doors to close, but they took forever. The elevator began to rise, slowly and sedately as always. The two men inside strained to be unleashed.

The doors pinged open and they dashed out on the eighth floor.

There wasn’t a soul in sight.

Ruby raced up the stairs two steps at a time. Though she was in peak condition, her breath burned through her lungs in short ragged bursts. Her mind stayed sharp and focused. Her fingers were curled around the triggers of the Hi-Power Brownings, itching for the delegates to appear. Nothing else mattered.

She reached the eighth floor a split second after Ravinder and Chance. She heard the ping of the elevator doors before she saw them. Swivelling, she changed direction, heading for the two smaller conference halls across the floor.

It has to be one of those two rooms.

Chance saw her, a blur of movement, and shouted. The two turned and chased after her. Despite the hours in the gym, Ravinder was not moving as fast as he wanted to. The younger, fitter Chance began to pull ahead but he too wasn’t moving fast enough. Summoning up his reserves, Chance ramped up the pace.

Suddenly Ruby spun around and fired – twice. Then she was off again.

Both shots went wide, but forced Chance to drop. Coming up from behind, too fast to stop, Ravinder blundered into him. By the time they got up, the distance between them and Ruby had increased.

Ruby was flying, her feet skimming over the carpeted corridor in long flashing strides. As she skidded around a corner, she spotted Ido Peled standing at the door of the conference room on the right, and knew the delegates had to be behind it. Like a linebacker, the tall, fair Peled stood with his back to the door, weapon in hand. He tensed as she charged around the corner and came at him full tilt.

The body armour and baseball cap must have confused Peled. He’d seen Jennifer wearing those just a while ago. So he hesitated a second before bringing up his gun. That fraction of time cost him his life.

Ruby fired the unsilenced gun in her right hand for its longer range and accuracy. The shot boomed and reverberated, spurring on Chance and Ravinder.

Peled was dead before his body hit the floor. Chance, now within range, raised his weapon and fired twice. The first bullet buzzed past Ruby’s head and thwacked into the thick wooden door of the conference room. The second hammered into Ruby. Jennifer’s jacket limited the damage, but the high velocity shock made her stagger. Still, she managed to throw open the door and charge into the conference room. She hit the door hard with her heel as she raced inside. It slammed shut behind her with a bang.

That was followed by more bangs, sharper, louder and so close together that Ravinder could not tell how many shots had been fired.

Then he saw Chance reach the door. Without checking his stride, Chance shouldered it in and raced inside.

Ravinder burst in hard on his heels.

Chance ground to a halt, the pistol in his hand still half-raised. He froze; the slightest move and Ruby would put a bullet in his head. Her weapons were up and smoking. Ravinder ran in behind him.

The pistol in Ruby’s left hand was pointed straight at Chance’s head. Her face was alabaster. Frozen. Immobile. Emotionless. Only her eyes hinted at the turmoil inside her – tiny seething dots, tense with concentration.

She was about eight feet away, her breath heavy, but the Brownings in her hands were rock steady. The weapon in her right hand was placed against Senator George Polk’s head – now no charm or smile on his face, just sheer panic. A low, almost inaudible, keening sound emanated from of him.

Raj Thakur, Ghazi Baraguti and Prince Ghanim Abdul Rahman al-Saud lay in grotesque poses around the conference table. They had been the closest when Ruby stormed in and opened fire. It did not matter to her. Every delegate was fair game. And she had gone for the headshot with all three.

Thakur’s body had slipped to the floor. The top half of his pristine white kurta was bright red. Baraguti was half in his chair and half sprawled across the table, about to stand when he stopped a bullet. Thick blood seeped from his head and onto the teak tabletop. With his face blown away, there was nothing regal about the Saudi prince any more. Bits of blood, brain and bone were sprayed across the other delegates, all frozen in horror. Gun smoke furled in the stark room.

For one tiny but endless second, everything came to a standstill.

‘Ruby, don’t do it.
Please
,’ Ravinder’s voice broke the frozen tableau. He was having trouble speaking. He could have sworn it was Rehana standing in front of him. ‘Don’t! It’s over. No one else needs to die.’

‘No, father, it’s not.’ Ruby’s voice was high-pitched and tightly drawn. Her face was a grim mask. ‘It will never be over till our people are allowed to live in peace and with dignity. The killing has to stop.’

‘That is why they are here. To stop the killing!’ Despite her fiery posture, Ravinder could sense an uncertainty within her. Somehow he had to keep her talking.
As long as she is talking, her guns will stay silent.
His mind lanced out, seeking the right words.

‘No,’ she intoned, ‘they are not here for justice. They will sell us out, the way they have always done. This Summit cannot go on,’ she continued in that same high-pitched Rehana-like tone flushed with emotion. ‘Our people cannot be sold out any longer.’

‘But there is no need now for more killing, Ruby,’ Ravinder’s voice had taken on a softer, neutral but firm, negotiator’s tone. As he spoke, he inched slowly to his right, trying to ensure Chance was no longer in his line of fire.

‘Stop that, father!’ Ruby gestured with her weapon. ‘Don’t move.’

‘Fine, I won’t.’ Ravinder slowly raised his left hand, palm forward, in a placating gesture. His right was at his side, still holding his revolver. ‘Don’t you see how pointless all this is? The dust will never settle… neither for the Palestinians nor the Jews… not until they sit down and talk. Drop your weapons,’ Ravinder pleaded, ‘Please. I promise I will do everything possible to defend you in court.’

‘No, father, I will not be taken alive.’ He heard the sorrow in her voice. And even though her tone was firm, he sensed flecks of indecision.

He might be able to talk her down. ‘Ruby…’

Without warning, the door flew open and Mohite burst in with a gun in his hand. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. His gun hand began to rise.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. ‘No!’ Ravinder yelled.